


A Gathering Tempest

by dwyndling



Series: chi [9]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Keyblade Wielders (Kingdom Hearts), Keyblade-centric, Keyblades (Kingdom Hearts), Master's Defender (Keyblade), Rainfell (Keyblade), Re Mind Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: Water carries a long memory. Something uncouth stirs in the depths.
Series: chi [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583548
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	A Gathering Tempest

Strength...a tool to be used wisely, and with care.

The first time it ever turns from a rain of glittering dust to a weapon, glinting metallic in the light of the lanterns, it is a feeling like no other. Terra excitedly asks if he can hold it. She says no, teasingly holding it back and out of his reach.

It is grey and blue, muted colors that reflect a severity to the key, even as the teeth form a decorative shape of metal spikes. It suits her well, in it’s demure and yet vicious appearance.

Training with it comes naturally to her, the discipline and integrity of the process growing to be more and more etched upon the person she grows into. It’s not difficult to see why, as her heart pines for the thought of success, of one day living up to the responsibilities she sets for herself as a matter of course. 

Regardless of whether it is just Terra who trains alongside her, or now also the blond youth with the empty eyes and quiet expression, she will prevail over the tasks before her. Simple, is it not? To grow and learn you must study, and so the time that is not spent practicing forms in the courtyard is spent pouring over dusty books, gleaning whatever she can from the esoteric texts. 

Her master is pleased, and the spark of approval in his eyes when she continues to excel at the tasks set before is easy to see. It’s addictive, the light she can sense radiating from him, the light of honest pride and admiration.

It’s a similar light, that flows through her veins when she wields the keyblade, but it is not the same. Instead, it is the quiet glow of dedication, mingled with the bright spark of courage and desire. 

‘Rainfell’ her key is dubbed, as it seemed the right thing to name it. There is hardly any deeper reason, as so long as the key has a fitting name, it barely matters as long as it has a name to begin with. She, for all her other virtues, is not a poetic person. So long as the blade has an honest name, it needs nothing more.

The Mark of Mastery. The day she has been waiting for what feels like all her life. Even if she hasn’t quite lived two full decades yet, the weight of the exam settles on her shoulders with what feels like a pressure beyond her years, something crushing, and yet oddly seductive. 

Fear, that’s what it is.

“Master Aqua.”

What should have filled her with the thrill of exhilaration now only adds to the ghostly weight on her shoulders, and she bows properly, even as her heart cries out for the shock of sadness that had been on Terra’s face. It is not an empty prize, to earn the title for which she has bled and sweat for years...but it seems slightly more hollow by comparison to the small and gentle thrill of watching a meteor shower past curfew. 

Fear would seem to be justified, as the little world she had once lived in seems to unravel more and more with every passing second, and the outside universe stretches forward with such grandiose vastness. The darkness betweens world is deep and unknowable, and if it weren’t for her armor, she fears it might swallow her whole.

Master Xehanort...Terra...what happened? If...if Terra had become a master instead of her...could this all have been avoided? 

It is no use dwelling on what could have been. For now, she must lock stares with those golden eyes set in a painfully familiar face, and brandish Rainfell with the intent to strike. 

Even, if it truly means falling this far, if it truly means allowing the dark pit to swallow her instead of the man beside her. 

The Realm of Darkness is cold, and as opposed to day and night, it would seem there is ‘cold’ and ‘colder’. She curls into a ball for warmth, and can’t help but wish that the warm glow in her chest, the stoic and calm warmth of Master’s Defender, was physical.

This keyblade speaks with the weight of years that Rainfell did not have, and the feel of it in her hand is all wrong. But quickly, the initial discomfort ceases to matter at all, as any keyblade is keyblade enough when the Heartless in this realm come endlessly clattering up, looking to suffuse her light with the cold shadows.

_ Terra… _

His face, and Ven’s placid and unresponsive one, jolt her heart with the force of a sudden embrace. There is still something worth fighting for, she still has reasons to claw her way out of this dark hole eventually, and as long as those reasons persist, she will continue to fight. There is no question, not for her.

Her keyblade is lost somewhere in the general excitement of helping Mickey and those two small boys. She must have left it carelessly out of reach, or some other such blunder. Wherever it is, Eraqus’s keyblade is too far away to answer her call.

_ No true Master would ever be so foolish as to lose their  _ keyblade.  _ Master Eraqus made a mistake in thinking you were good enough. _

But still, she has come within grazing distance of the light, and the encounter rejuvenates her more than she can express. The old man on the shores only bolsters this feeling, in his resignation and amnesiac state. She has her memories of what’s awaiting her. She has this much grace. 

With the heavy silence finally being broken by another human’s voice, it seems as though that maybe, just maybe, the light is finally beginning to reach her down here for good. Thanks to this reprieve she will have the strength she requires to battle on, regardless of whether she has a keyblade or not.

And then, a man with an oddly familiar face arrives, and suddenly there is darkness on all sides, down where no sound can reach her.

_...I can barely breathe. This sensation...it’s slowly...slowly… _

_ They left you, in this blackened hellhole, to wither away and die. They don’t deserve your love. They don’t deserve your forgiveness. That  _ rat _ doesn’t care about you. None of them do. You weren’t good enough for them. You’ve never been the special one. _

_ This feeling...it’s their turn to feel this. This rage...this suffering...if they dare to come here to taunt you again, you’ll make sure they never return to the light.  _

There is a keyblade, clashing against the starry one in her hands. Light breaks forth from the clash, rippling against the waves of shadowy grief that have utterly consumed her.

“Sora…?”

There is no time to waste after that. Ven needs her, and she refuses to shirk that responsibility a moment longer. 

_ Ten years...it’s been eleven years now. _

She faces off with the boy made solely of darkness, but her body, weakened by the strain of a decade in empty shadows, doesn’t have the resistance it used to. Master’s Defender feels the strain too, and the darkness weighs on both of them like a veil.

_ Ven. _

There is the quiet thrill of reunion, of a promise fulfilled. Her friend who had once glowed like sunshine now sparkles with life once again. She has accomplished at least this much, with some help.

Terra’s whereabouts are left to solve, and she feels her heart grow steely once more. It’s not enough to assume that getting him back will be as easy as waking Ven, if he truly had fallen to Xehanort’s possession so deeply.

...the Keyblade Graveyard stretches up before them, exactly as eerie and unnatural as she remembers it. It’s somewhat of an unsurity, whether it makes her feel better or worse to approach it with a larger group this time. Xehanort will have his thirteen, and they have nine total, with seven keyblade wielders. Surely, that has to be enough to turn the odds.

The sheer amount of Heartless would seem to disagree. There is darkness on all sides, there is a shrieking and wailing of unholy creatures on the wind, there is  _ Terra,  _ standing so vacantly ahead of them. 

There is a great and sudden darkness, that stares coldly down on her with her own eyes, lost in a golden haze and multiplied into the unbearable. 

_ There is a severance, and the light in her heart becomes detached from everything else. Nothingness hangs in the balance. _

And then it doesn’t matter anymore, and dreams have exchanged themselves for material, the flush of life has returned to her and the people around her. The fight continues on, further into the graveyard.

Master’s Defender does not shudder under the wake of the attacks, and Master Eraqus’s and Master Xehanort’s keyblades ring out against each other once again. Ven is fighting too, with all his heart, and with Sora’s help, another heart settles back into where it belongs.

Though Terra has been gifted control of his own body, free of anything other, the fight continues on and into the night. They fight as a team, and her heart hardens again with the responsibility of battle. 

_ Light...coursing through her against the barrage of shadow. _

Light...returned to her in the form of Rainfell, and armor long grown dusty. 

Light, carried with her in the guise of her two dearest ones. The darkness stretches out before her, and her heart is molten silver, alive, real, and whole.

  
  



End file.
